


Green-Eyed (Red-Eyed) Monster

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Character Study-ish, Gen, Nightmares, slight implied takumixcorrin at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 03:46:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. But he himself is both the fooler and the fooled, so who’s the one to be shamed?Takumi in the moments and worlds that defined him.





	Green-Eyed (Red-Eyed) Monster

(Summary: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. But he himself is both the fooler and the fooled, so who’s the one to be shamed?)

 

When he was only a small child, constantly following and clinging to his mother and not yet aware of anything around him, Takumi knew no fears. He cried and hid but he was never afraid. He was terrorised by the monster beneath the bed and the shadows lurking in wait of him but he was never scared. Even when it was long past the witching hour and he woke with his eyes full of tears, he had never needed to fear because always, big sister Hinoka would be there to reassure him that everything was alright, big brother Ryoma would be telling him to be strong, and big sister Corrin would promise to be there for him, no matter what.

 

He would listen and close his eyes under their caring and hopefully finish the night’s sleep without any more nightmares to haunt him.

 

And then one day, before he turned four and when a new baby sister had just arrived, Corrin broke her promise and everything fell apart.

 

He was young, far too young to understand what had happened then. He knew that big sister was gone and he knew that everyone was heartbroken.

 

He was as well. He wanted his big sister back. But then, he also wanted his other big sister and his big brother back too. They didn’t seem to want him, though. 

 

Just as he began to learn to read and write and started to train with a katana, he began to notice that his siblings had forgotten about him. He could startle awake in the middle of the night, screaming and panting from the constantly-worsening nightmares and tremble beneath his blankets until morning, alone, he could collapse from sleep-deprivation-induced migraines and they would hand him off to a maid and be on their merry way. 

 

Mother still cared, though. She always had the time to remind him that he mattered, unlike everyone else.

 

But that was okay. Maybe they were busy, too busy to worry about something as trivial as him. It wasn’t like they didn’t care about him or anything. Of course not. One day, big sister would be brought back and they could be a happy family again. They could… play together, and… 

 

What had they used to do together? What had Corrin been like? Just as his siblings were forgetting his existence, his own memories of Corrin were beginning to fade. 

 

He remembered her hair, he thought, soft and brushing over his face when she had played with him before he could stand, and her voice, soft and kind but made of nothing but conviction.

 

He also remembered the clear red eyes, unlike anything he had ever seen and so piercing that they were what stared into his soul whenever he shut his own eyes and allowed his mind to wander to lands for him alone to experience.

 

And always,  _ always _ , they haunted him.

 

Every night amidst the horrors and carnage he couldn’t make himself unsee, there would be something, someone, with blank red eyes who would whisper dread into his soul. 

 

One time, when he was eleven, maybe twelve, he managed to run away from his dying family, fleeing from the bodies bleeding on the ground and grabbing at his ankles and begging him to save them, and he confronted the red-eyed being. 

 

He couldn't find it in himself to speak, to scream, but it knew everything he was thinking of anyways, murmured confirmation to everything that had ever troubled him or made him doubt his self-worth.

 

Right. He was worthlessness. Hoshido didn’t need him, nobody needed him. He was only a waste of time because he was nothing special, his siblings were enough, did everything he could and couldn’t do only better. He would never have Ryoma’s skill or Hinoka’s strength or even Sakura’s kindness. He would never be worthy of the sacred Yato. He was training for nothing. The Blade of Salvation would not choose him.

 

It kept talking to him, talking and talking and talking until he realized that it was being  _ kind _ to him, just like Mikoto except not quite the same, not quite the same as anybody he had ever talked to before and it was disconcerting in a way that made him wonder when the corpses of everyone he knew were going to return.

 

He was right, it turned out, and something reached up from beneath where he stood to claw him down under. He was wrapped by something too powerful for him to fight against, trapped in the embrace of hands that should be familiar and comforting but aren’t and hair that was every bit as silken as he remembered tickled him as he struggled to breathe.

 

The next morning, he missed breakfast and a couple maids ( _ no doubt laughing behind his back at the prince who can’t even wake himself up on time)  _ had to take the time out of their duties to wake him. He had apologised profusely and thanked them as they went on with their business, watching their backs disappear behind a corner, numbed with the reality he had been shown. 

 

Briefly, he debated over going to his mother for help, but then he remembered the words of the red-eyed being and the horror of how much time he had stolen from her settled onto him. Instead, he changed and wandered to the training area, shamefaced at how useless and stupid and selfish he had been.

 

Surprisingly, the clanging that could be heard from three halls away was from Ryoma, not Hinoka. He turned to give Takumi a cursory glance and nodded before returning to his own training.

 

Takumi had watched for a few seconds, wondering how Ryoma was so good when he rarely seemed to train. Every day when he came here, it was Hinoka with her naginata and him with a katana. He was sure that he put in more work than his older brother, at least, but it wasn’t him who already had a legendary weapon. 

 

Against his better judgment, against everything he had learned and everything he should have known, he challenged his older brother to a duel. Fueled by resentment and being so unacknowledged and the desperate need to prove everyone, his dreams, and himself wrong, he took a blade, the first one his hand touched, and pointed it at his brother, demanding that they fight.

 

Ryoma had looked at him smiling softly ( _ nothing but pure condescension)  _ and said good-humouredly, “I don’t know, Takumi. I’m a lot older than you, you know. Maybe when you’re older you’ll be ready.”

 

And then Takumi had charged him down, throwing everything he had worked for through the past seven years into trying to beat Ryoma, and then trying to hit Ryoma, and then trying not to get destroyed by Ryoma. Even with surprise aiding him and shock slowing his brother, he had never had a chance.

 

When he was flat against the ground, a minute later, maybe less, with Ryoma’s blade at his chest, he stared into his brother’s eyes, he saw  _ pity _ . He took a shuddering breath, blinked, and the sword was still hovering just millimetres above his unarmoured body. Still, Ryoma was looking down on him with that  _ goddamn pity _ and there was also regret and acceptance and for a moment, Takumi wondered if he was really so meaningless that Ryoma was just going to kill him right there to end his suffering.

 

But then he blinked again and Ryoma had withdrawn his sword. 

 

“It’s okay, Takumi,” he had said, reaching a hand down to help his brother up. “You’ll get there someday.”

 

And Takumi had gotten up on his own and ran, because whoever it had been in his dreams was right. He wasn’t as good as Ryoma, not even close. He knew that for sure now. Even Ryoma himself didn’t find him worthwhile, he wouldn’t be for years and years and years until Ryoma was withered from aged because he would always be second, always be behind everyone else.

 

He had been found by his mother later that day. She asked him what was wrong and he had told her that he didn’t want to use swords anymore. She frowned in response but found him a bow and taught him how to nock, aim, and shoot.

 

He was awful. But his mother had given him his own bow and he didn’t want to disappoint her so he continued.

 

He spent the next few years practicing. Ryoma watched him sometimes, but he never said anything so Takumi ignored him. His mother helped him when she could, and sometimes, Sakura would be there too, quiet but cheering whenever he made a particularly good shot. She couldn’t use any weapons yet, but she had confided in him once that when she grew up to be priestess like their mother, she wanted to take up the bow and learn to shoot just like him. 

 

That had warmed his heart and helped him redouble his efforts to become a perfect marksman. 

 

His nightmares lessened, slowly, barely. Every night, he would come up with new ways to torture himself, but the red-eyed  _ thing _ vanished eventually and all he had left to deal with was everything else.

 

Once or twice, he even had dreams where he managed to help the people who were begging and dying.

 

There  _ was _ something he could do, something that his siblings couldn’t. Even he could admit that he was at least okay with a bow, now.

 

Sometime during the better years in his life, he had come across his retainers. 

 

Hinata, for his everlasting energy and good spirit, and Oboro for her dedication and because something had clicked between them.

 

The two of them really did seem to care for him. Soon, he came to regard them as part of the family, welcome additions to the group of people for whom he would willingly lay down his life. 

 

And then Ryoma had noticed him, finally,  _ finally _ , praising him for his hard-earned skill and asked him if he wanted to join the army.

 

He had agreed immediately, of course, wide-eyed and not quite believing. 

 

Really, there was no war to fight and no soldiers to train, but he had been acknowledged. His existence wasn’t a waste. 

 

Ryoma smiled at his excitement, ( _ for real this time, maybe? _ ) and brought him to the throne room. Mother was there, and she was holding a bow. Her bow. 

 

The Fujin Yumi. 

 

He looked at her and then the bow and then Ryoma, back and forth over and over again. She beckoned for him to go and take it, but he was frozen, so instead, she walked forwards and pressed it gently into his hands.

 

He learned the bow quickly. Mikoto spent almost no time with him. Producing the string and forming the arrow was so easy, his shots always flew straight and true, and with more power than any normal weapon could ever muster. 

 

He barely touches a normal bow after he gets the Fujin Yumi.

 

He can say that he’s strong like his family, now. Strong like Mother, strong like Father, strong like Ryoma and Hinoka, maybe he’s even stronger than them. Whatever the case is, he can convince himself that he matters now. 

 

Even if they don’t care about him, he can at least justify his life because he can do some good in the army if war ever comes. Everyone can remember his lost sister rather than him. He’s forgotten most of her now, only remembers that she exists, but he doesn’t need the fragments of her anyways.

 

And then she, Corrin, his sister, returned, and the sight of her red eyes sent jolts down his spine.

He wanted to trust Corrin but he couldn’t.

 

He wants to run up to her and hug her as she stroked his hair but he couldn’t.

 

He couldn’t trust a Nohrian, he couldn’t trust that his sister was still the same, he couldn’t trust in himself not to break down.

 

And he couldn’t trust in those eyes because those were the eyes of the one who used to torment him at night.

 

That night, for the first time since he was gifted with the Fujin Yumi, Takumi dreamed of the red-eyed thing, the two lights in the middle of only darkness so perfectly alike to Corrin’s that it was eerie.

 

There was nothing else this time. He stood in blackness and it watched him and watched him until he began to approach it, and then it took him into its arms and hugged him and hugged him until he woke up. 

 

Still, he doesn’t trust Corrin. Still, he can’t trust Corrin.

 

All his doubts were proven true the next day when his mother was murdered and it was Corrin’s fault, it’s all her fault and he could never forgive her. 

But then Corrin chose them over her foster family in Nohr and her emotions seemed genuine and he couldn’t bring himself to believe that she was really a spy.

 

When they got back home to the castle, Ryoma told him that they were setting off for war the next day. He packed his bow, a couple sets of clothes, and then went to bed and closed his eyes, praying for at least one good night’s sleep.

 

Far after midnight, he could hear Ryoma, Hinoka and Sakura talking to and having fun with Corrin, apparently already having forgotten that she had killed their mother.

 

His prayers went unanswered and he met the red-eyed being again that night. Its voice was clear this time, and sounded hauntingly familiar, but he couldn’t place it and could only decide that he hated it and never wanted to hear it again. 

 

But maybe there was something more to the entity because it understood him so perfectly. It offered him everything he wanted, attention, approval, the power to save Hoshido. He so desperately wanted to accept all of it, but then he couldn’t because it was in his own dreams where he could do nothing.

 

He woke in the middle of the night again, but after thinking about it until the sun rose again and he decided it was time to get ready to ride off to war, he decided that it hadn’t been a nightmare.

 

At the battle when he was hit too hard by an enemy’s lance and found himself plummeting off a cliff, he closed his eyes to prepare himself for death and saw the red eyes again, making the same offer to grant the same wishes, and he nodded. 

 

The thing’s voice was honest, not sly, so he nodded.

 

He didn’t want to die, so he nodded.

 

He was weak and worthless and couldn’t even be who he wanted to be through his own power, so he nodded with only the strand of hope that maybe, just maybe, the red-eyed being wasn’t lying,

 

Falling, tumbling to his death, he nodded, and the thing vanished, leaving him wondering how much it would hurt when he finally hit the bottom of the canyon.

 

It was all meaningless though, because somehow, by some miracle, he didn’t die.

 

Instead, he woke up in the hands of Azura, Hinoka, Sakura, and Corrin in the middle of a fight against a village of ninjas, and only after they had wiped out the opposing forces did he learn of what had happened. 

 

He knew immediately that it had been the red-eyed being.

 

The red-eyed being knew as well, and the following nights were back to the nightmares he used to deal with before he became an archer.

 

He never woke up screaming, at least. That spared him a lot of shame. Although, he found that he occasionally woke far from their group’s camp. He had sleepwalked before as a child, though, so he thought nothing of it and moved on. There was no place in war for a soldier who was so weak he couldn’t even keep his own fear in check.

 

And every night, every single night, it would return and whatever he did, he couldn’t escape it. It alone became what tormented him in the depths of night. He could barely look at Corrin anymore.

 

But she was the only one who seemed to notice or care.

 

In the dead of night, it would be her that came to comfort him and wrap him in her arms until morning and though he never said anything, he knew that she knew he was grateful. 

 

Because he loved her too. She was his sister, after all.

 

Still, he was never able to look into her eyes.

He is strong. More than ever before, he is sure of that.

 

They are all strong. That, too, is a certainty.

 

He must be stronger than them. He wonders if that’s even a possibility.

 

Battle after battle, he slings a devastating rain of arrows into his enemies, and he knows that with he shot, he’s getting stronger. 

 

But so is everyone else. Even Sakura has picked up a bow and fights with everyone else, all traces of cowardice gone.

 

He has to get even stronger.

 

Strength was all that mattered. Everyone would be forced to pay attention to him if he was the strongest, and then they would care about him, too.

The war was over.

 

He was worthless as an archer now, but then, maybe it was okay to just relax and enjoy life however he could for a while, at least. Besides, Ryoma had been true to his word on letting his younger brother help him outside of the army. Quite honestly, Takumi enjoyed making the safe, comparatively easy feats of logic he used to push nobles and landowners to abide by the new Hoshidan policies.

 

Sometimes, when he wasn’t busy, he would close his eyes and wonder if there was still war somewhere else, somewhere too far away for him to ever know.

 

He would wonder then what might have happened if Corrin hadn’t freed him from his own weakness.

 

One day, two and a half years after the war with Nohr was over, the red-eyed being returned to his dreams.

 

Gaze glassy and dull, silvery hair splashed across its back and its entire body wreathed in dark magic, it lifted the Fujin Yumi in anger and hate.

 

He snapped awake and rose jerkily from his bed, nearly falling to the floor. Moving through the halls like a ghost, he slid the door open and stumbled inside. He shook her awake, harsh and violent.

 

“Corrin,” he said. “If there were another world in which I raised a hand against you, kill me to stop me. Promise me that you will definitely do that.”

And in another world, in another time, he sees ( _ he is)  _ the red-eyed being, the red-eyed monster, dead and alive all at once, raising his bow at the one he called a sister and shooting to kill.


End file.
